


the man his father wanted

by epiceeleye



Category: A Chorus Line - Hamlisch/Klebin/Kirkwood & Dante, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, I just really love Paul's monologue okay, This is an AU, allusions to sam's venture into witchiness, cas is a fantastic actor, no monsters!! no pressures to save the world!, sammy works the lights for the show!, there are allusions to the fact that john is a shitty father, vague references to anger but nothing worse than that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:15:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29641491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epiceeleye/pseuds/epiceeleye
Summary: Dean watches Cas perform Paul's monologue from Chorus Line and it stirs up some emotions he usually tries to ignore.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	the man his father wanted

Dean very much does not want to be here, stuck in a crappy, sticky plastic auditorium seat as the lights dim, and he is not looking forward to listening to his classmates try to sing Broadway numbers. Not one bit. But he had promised himself that he’d be here to support Sammy and, more importantly, he’d promised Sammy. He wasn’t even going to be onstage, but he had rambled about his lighting plans and complaining about mirrors every drive to school for weeks. It seemed like the most boring shit to Dean, but if it made Sammy happy, he’d try his best to shut his trap and paste a smile on. (Dean wasn’t always the best at this, but he was always getting new opportunities to practice, like the other day when Sam came home with a tarot deck and cajoled Dean into getting a reading.) 

Dean fidgets with the _Chorus Line_ program, settles into his seat–or at least, as much as one can settle in a seat like this–and watches. He doesn’t want to admit it, but the show grows on him. The dance numbers are pretty cool, he’ll give them that. (Not that he’d ever told anyone, but when Dean was younger, all he had wanted to do was dance. He could’ve been a good dancer, he still thinks privately). 

Some of the numbers are definitely pitchy, but the show is fun. Dean is having fun. And then this guy, this dark-haired guy, steps up and starts monologuing. It takes Dean a moment, but he recognizes him as Cas, who sits in front of him in English class. As soon as he opens his mouth, it’s like a spell is cast on the auditorium. His character, Paul, is talking about when he was younger.

“From seeing all those movie musicals, I used to dance around on the street, and I'd get caught all the time,” he says. His presence on stage is something magical, and the way the light hits his face highlights all the planes and angles. His jaw is loose but his shoulders are tense and there’s something so vulnerable in the way he holds himself. 

In a soft voice, half-shaken and half-steadfast, he says, “I mean, I was terribly effeminate. I always knew I was gay, but that didn't bother me. What bothered me was that I didn't know how to be a boy. One day I looked at myself in the mirror and said, ‘You're fourteen years old and you're a faggot. What are you going to do with your life?’”

 _You’re fourteen years old and you’re a faggot_.

Dean tries to not let his mind go there. He tries to keep his heart steady and all pieced together, but he can already feel those words digging their way in there, trying to shatter it. 

Cas continues his monologue, describing how school was such hell that he had to drop out, even though he really did love learning. A funny smile comes over his face. It’s not a happy smile–sardonic, maybe? Dean has a hard time finding the right word to describe it. He says, “See, when I quit school, what I was doing was trying to find out who I was and how to be a man.” He gestures with his hands. He seems so small on the stage, in front of the dance mirrors, but at the same time it’s so clear that he has complete ownership of the space, complete control. Dean is enraptured. With a little laugh, Cas says, “You know, there are a lot of people in this world who don't know how to be men. And since then, I found out that I am one. I was looking for the wrong thing. I was trying to learn how to be butch. Anyway, I started hanging around Seventy-Second Street, meeting all these really strange people. Just trying to make friends that were like me. So that I'd understand what it was that I was.”

Dean tries again not to think. He tries to shield himself so the words don’t hit quite so hard. He doesn’t do a very good job of it, though.

John played football in high school, so Dean knew he had to try out, too, because it would get his dad to crack a grin and clap him on the back and hand him one of his shitty beers. Dean did like football, he did. Every time he caught the ball, executed a play to perfection, there was an exhilarating rush of blood in his ears. He felt like the man his father wanted to be. He felt good.

He didn’t feel like himself, but he was proving that he was a man. Appearances were all that mattered; appearances could make sure that none of Dean’s subtle glances or stubborn thoughts bled out to where people could see them. When he slipped into the pads, they were armor. When he roughhoused with his teammates in the locker room, being extra careful his hands and eyes didn’t go where they weren’t supposed to, he knew people were seeing him as a man. 

Dean didn’t ever let himself think about actually feeling like a man. Dean didn’t let himself wonder if something was missing, if there was a way he could be himself and happy.

On stage, Cas had started to pace, slow but uneven steps. “Anyway, then there was this thing of me trying to hide it from my parents. That was something. 'Cause I had to buy all this stuff. Like, ah, shoes to rehearse in, earrings, make-up. And I would hide it all and my mother would find it. I told her there was this girl in the show and she didn't want her mother to know what she was doing and I was holding this stuff for her. She believed me.”

Dean remembers when he was little and he played dress-up in his mother’s jewelry and shoes and makeup before he was old enough to realize that it was wrong. As soon as he saw John’s face in the doorway, though, he knew he had messed up. It was one of the first times Dean had seen that look in his eyes, and he wished that it had been the last.

Dean claimed he was just trying to feel closer to Mary, that it was just because he missed her. They both knew that was horse shit, but neither of them said that.

Cas was describing now that the show he was a part of was leaving the city, and his parents were bringing his luggage and saying goodbye. But they got there too early, and they spotted him in his full get-up as he tried to sneak past. He said, “After the show I went back to my dressing room and after I'd finished dressing and taking my makeup off, I went back down stairs. And there they were standing in the middle of all these ... And all they said to me was please write, make sure you eat and take care of yourself. And just before my parents left, my father turned to the producer and said: ‘Take care of my son...’ That was the first time he ever called me that... I... ah... I... ah....”

Dean was glad it was dark. He hated when people saw him cry. 

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is @spn-brainrot! This was written as the first part of a longer fic I'm writing with a friend, but the jury's still out on whether we'll actually finish it. So I thought I might as well just post this!


End file.
